Monday, November 28, 2011

Several years of my childhood were spent in a house that was as legally close to a railroad track as could be. The house shook and windows rattled every time the engines went blowing past the back of our house. I've often said that my brother's love of trains, and the reason he is an engineer now, is that his prenatal lullaby was the shaking and grumbling of Conrail.

My own boys love them though, so maybe it's just little boys who love trains. We went to the local rail museum to wander through cars in the middle of refurb and enjoy the blasts from the past, from days when rail travel was normal and not some exotic adventure.
The best part of this trip was probably when we walked into the shed and were surprised by who was working on the desk.